


four times it was romantic and one time it wasn't

by greeny1710



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Jos Verstappen's A+ Parenting, M/M, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 06:50:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23846950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greeny1710/pseuds/greeny1710
Summary: soulmates were weirdand kinda dumband also kinda made you want to murder them sometimes
Relationships: Alexander Albon/George Russell, Charles Leclerc & Max Verstappen, Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen, Lando Norris/Carlos Sainz Jr, Lewis Hamilton/Nico Rosberg
Comments: 22
Kudos: 190
Collections: F1 Fandom Unity Exchange





	four times it was romantic and one time it wasn't

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lily_Anna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lily_Anna/gifts).



> I have no idea what this is, but the fic exchange was basically an excuse to try something new, and I hope you enjoy it Lily_Anna! It was a nice change of pace and also im sorry for not making Lestappen happen, but im so used to writing them as brothers that I couldn't make them romantic without being weird and im sorry :/ 
> 
> but yeah, I hope you enjoy this?? soulmate AUs are weird
> 
> also all dates are in British order (date / month / year)

Soulmarks settled on your skin in a way that no one was ever able to understand. 

The most important date of the person you were going to spend the rest of your life loving settled on your skin on a random date. Sometimes it was before, sometimes the day of, sometimes days, months, or even years after the date passed. There was no system to when it appeared. All anyone knew was that one day it would.

It would settle on the inside of a person’s left ring finger, pressing against the middle finger, the numbers a soft grey. And when you found your person, and the moment of realisation in which you realised that you loved each other occurred, the numbers would sparkle, lighting up and glowing in the colours that meant most to you and your soulmate, mixing and binding together until it settled back against the skin in a way that left you bonded. 

And on the ones where it settled against your skin years after the date passed, sometimes you struggled to ever find your way back to the home you’d wanted. And ultimately, some were left with nothing other than some faded grey numbers and no colour to show them who it was they loved most in the world. 

**\---- Lewis and Nico ----**

Nico Rosberg cursed the day that his soul mark inflamed his skin. 

He was stood, lost in the crowds, staring up as the podium opened up and the Mexican fans starting clapping and shouting, watching as Lewis ascended on top of his car, his arms outstretched like the messiah. 

And to Nico, he was. 

Lewis was a God. One of the greatest of all time. 

A soon to be six-time world champion. 

And the person that Nico thought he’d be in love with for the rest of his life. 

But Lewis didn’t feel that. Lewis only felt animosity for him. Lewis only felt anger for him. 

Lewis purposefully ignored him regardless of how many times Nico tried to talk to him, and he attended as many of the races as he could, whether it be for Sky or for RTL. And he knew people had picked up on the way that he always found a way to somehow bring Lewis into the conversation. He didn’t _mean_ to, and he didn’t always intend to. It’s not like he wanted to always be talking about Lewis, it’s just…

Well he kinda did always want to talk about Lewis. 

Nico watched as Lewis and his car were lifted onto the podium, his arms aloft with his hands pointing to the sky. The graphic of Lewis’ face was looking down on them, his strong profile and his shoulders pushed back, the smouldering look of defiance. Nico knew that look. It was the look that said he knew he was good. 

Lewis knew he was amazing. 

And every single photo of him showed that. 

Lewis _was_ amazing and he deserved this. All of this. And next week, when he was racing in the USA, he’d become a six-time world champion. He just needed to finish 8th or higher, and he’d do it. 

Lewis could do it. He had to. 

He was _Lewis Hamilton_. 

And he was the man that Nico was in love with. 

He’d been in love with him for years. 

A jolt of pain flashed through him as his hand ached. It was like a burning sensation creeped up his hand, erupting under the skin, fireworks exploding, scorching his heart and tears pricked his eyes.

He looked down at his hand and watched as the numbers settled against his skin. 

What the fuck did that mean?

_27/11/2016_

What happened on 27/11/2016?

And who the fuck had been around then?

2016

The year Nico won his championship.

Was that the day he won?

Nico quickly turned on his heel and ran, pushing through the crowds and running to some corner of the paddock where no one could find him. He sunk down onto the floor, pulled his knees to his chest and dragging his phone out of his pocket. With shaky hands, Nico typed into google:

_When did Nico Rosberg win the championship?_

He knew in his heart what the answer was. He knew it was the date on his skin. 

And yet seeing it written there in stark black and white kicked him in the gut. 

His soulmate wasn’t Lewis. 

It would never be Lewis.

Lewis’ important date would be when he won his first championship, when he signed with Mercedes, when he impressed Ron Dennis enough for him to sign Lewis to McLaren all those years ago. 

It wouldn’t be Nico’s championship win. 

Why would it be? 

That championship had been what ended up pulling them apart fully, and Nico still wondered every single race whether he should’ve stayed, whether he should’ve let Lewis win, whether Lewis was happier now that Nico wasn’t around anymore.

He curled into himself, burying his face in his knees, and for the first time since he realised he’d fallen in love with Lewis all those years ago, he let himself cry. 

Nico ended up skipping the US Grand Prix. 

Sky didn’t question it, and RTL were probably grateful to be able to get through a race without him continuously wanting to talk about Lewis. 

And Nico was grateful that he’d ended up skipping it. 

He’d curled under his blanket, hugging a pillow tight to his chest, and let the tears fall as he watched Lewis cross the finishing line and win his sixth world championship. 

Only one more championship and he’d be tied with Michael Schumacher. 

And Nico knew that Lewis was going to do it. 

All those years ago when they’d sat on that rooftop in Greece, and Nico had been bold enough to hold Lewis’ hand for the first time, Nico had whispered that one day Lewis would become the greatest of all time. That he’d smash the records, that he’d win everything. 

His hand was burning under the weight of his emotions, and his heart hurt under the weight of knowing that he could’ve been by Lewis’ side through all of this. 

Except he couldn’t. 

Because Nico had run off and he’d not been there for Lewis to win the championship again. 

He’d known Lewis would clinch it at COTA, it was inevitable. Lewis was simply amazing. 

And Nico knew that if he’d been there, he’d have cried his way through it, and his heart would’ve shattered under the weight of knowing that Lewis wouldn’t have even cared. Not about Nico. 

The race finished late, and Nico was falling asleep when he heard his phone vibrate on his nightstand, startling him awake. The light was blinding when Nico looked at it, squinting against the harsh light as he tried to make sense of the words sprawled across his screen.

Lewis   
  
Why weren’t you here?   
  


Nico didn’t reply. He couldn’t. How could he tell Lewis that the reason why he hadn’t turned up to see him win the championship was because he was going to blubber like a baby and embarrass himself and, more importantly, Lewis? 

He never thought about the fact that Lewis hadn’t text him in years.

And he never thought about the fact that Lewis had noticed he wasn’t there. 

If he had, he probably wouldn’t have fallen asleep so easily with his heart breaking at the prospect of Lewis not being in love with him. 

~

“Why weren’t you there?” 

Nico froze as the voice hit him. A voice that he hadn’t heard directed to him for a long time. 

A voice filled with hurt. 

Nico slowly turned around. 

Lewis was stood opposite him, in the gap between motorhomes where the press normally wouldn’t be and the drivers would come when they needed a moment alone. Nico had used to come here a lot, when the stress of being Lewis’ teammate and constantly fighting got too much. 

“Why weren’t you there? At America? You’ve been there every time, and you weren’t there.”

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” Nico admitted, watching Lewis fiddle with the arm of his racesuit that he’d tied around his waist. His fireproof sleeves were pulled up around his elbows and Nico could see Lewis’ fingers shaking. 

“Why would I not notice?”

“Lewis, I don’t remember the last time that we had a conversation. You don’t even look at me anymore.”

“It doesn’t mean I don’t know you’re there,” Lewis whispered, “It’s easier when I know you’re there.”

Nico frowned. What did Lewis mean by that? Lewis didn’t acknowledge his existence, ever, and here he was telling Nico that the races were easier to win when Nico was around.

“I got my soulmark,” Nico told him without preamble. 

“You found them?”

Nico shook his head, 

“It’s why I skipped COTA. I got my mark during the podium in Mexico, and I didn’t want to be here again knowing that the person I’m in love with isn’t mine.”

“What’s your date?” Lewis asked, slowly stepping closer to Nico. 

Asking someone’s date wasn’t normally accepted, but then again, Lewis and Nico weren’t normal. 

Lewis shakily took Nico’s hand in his, his fingers brushing against Nico’s as he pushed Nico’s ring finger up to see the date. 

Nico was too busy watching Lewis’ eyes to notice, which is why when Lewis gasped sharply and a tear fell from his eyes that Nico looked down. 

Lewis’ own finger was shining brightly, a strong silver mixing with a strong aqua, reflecting the colour mixing on Nico’s skin. 

It was a soothing, gentle motion that also sent his head woozy, as though he’d been clobbered around the head and yet Nico didn’t care. Lewis was carefully brushing his fingers over the date, and Nico didn’t understand. 

“Wh- Lewis, what is this?”

Lewis looked up at Nico, tears streaming down his face as he showed Nico his own hand. 

_16/03/2008_

“It’s the date of our first podium together in F1,” Nico whispered, “I fell in love with you on that date.”

“I’ve had it since the day before we got that podium,” Lewis admitted, one hand cupping Nico’s jaw, the other linking their fingers together, and stepping into his personal space. 

“Why did you never say anything?” Nico whispered, his free hand fisting at Lewis’ waist and pulling the fireproofs tighter.

“Just because I’m in love with you doesn’t mean you’re in love with me,” Lewis told him, his tongue darting out to trace his lips. 

“You fucking idiot,” Nico replied, tugging Lewis in and pressing their lips together. 

Every scream, every noise, every rev of an engine and shout of a fan drowned out as their lips melded together, a warm wave rushing through their blood and pooling at their fingers. 

The only noise was each other’s heartbeat, slowly pulling back together and revolting against the pain and the angst that they were used to. Time to talk about their continued heartbreak of each other would come.

But not right now. 

Right now they needed each other. They needed to kiss and they needed their dates to light up the same colour and settle against their skin to make them smile. 

They simply needed a moment to be happy. 

**\---- Max and Daniel ----**

They’d known they were each other’s soulmates almost from the day they’d set eyes on each other. They’d felt the warmth, felt the quietness, felt the love pouring through their veins. They didn’t have their dates yet and they didn’t have their colour, but they had each other.

And Dan had Max to teach about how to be loved and not fearful of people. 

But he’d done it, slowly opening Max up to love and when Dan had told Max he loved him the first time, curled up in bed with Max giggling against his chest as they watched some dumb romcom on the tv, Max had cried when he watched Daniel’s date settle against his skin. They’d only been together a few months, Max was a few months past turning 19, still so young and sweet, but Daniel knew he was the one. 

And it’s why Daniel knew what the date meant on Max’s skin. 

_20/09/19_

“Do you know what that’ll be?” Max had asked, his hand held above his head as he watched the rich navy blue swirling through the numbers. 

“No idea, Maxy,” Daniel lied, kissing Max‘s crown, “That’s three years in the future, baby, we’ll find out one day.”

Max nodded and didn’t stop smiling, tracing his right hand over the numbers. 

And Dan caught him doing it a lot. 

The first thing Max doing when he got his gloves off after a race would be to trace his fingers over his date and smile softly. When he was in a press conference and a question about his father cut a bit too close to home, he’d trace his fingers over the date and calm himself down. When he was scared and his Dad was shouting at him, Max would trace his fingers over the date and know that even if others hated him, Dan loved him. 

Daniel’s date turned up after a while, once Max was comfortable and safe and his Dad’s screaming in his head quietened down. And Dan had smiled when the date popped up on his hand. 

_15/05/16_

The date of Max’s first podium. 

Also the weekend of their first time together as teammates. 

But honestly, as much as he loved his own date, he loved Max’s more. Simply because he thought he knew what would happen on that date. 

Moving to Renault wasn’t necessarily the best decision Dan had made, but getting to do press together for their separate teams was still the most fun they could have whilst with their respective teams and Dan loved it. 

Singapore was the weekend of Max’s date. 

And Max, bless his silly little heart, had forgotten all about it. 

He was so used to the date being on his skin that was it was simply second nature now. 

“You’re going to be doing the SkyPad with Max after FP2,” Aurelie told him, and Daniel felt his heart stop. 

“Just me and him?”

Aurelie hummed and nodded, not paying attention to Daniel who was now rifling through his backpack. She’d grown used to his antics, and she barely looked up from her phone as Daniel had a minor breakdown. 

“Please behave, I know when you get in front of Max you become an absolute demon, but please don’t create a PR mess that I have to clean up,” Aurelie made him promise and Dan nodded. 

He just never gave a verbal confirmation that he understood the instruction. 

And honestly, that should have been Aurelie’s first indication that something was going to happen. 

“We’ve never done this together,” Max had exclaimed when the interview had started and they were told that they’d be analysing each other’s laps.

“There’s a few things we’re still yet to do together,” Daniel replied, grinning broadly at Max and making him laugh. 

Max tried to cut off the conversation before Daniel could make a sexually inappropriate for TV joke, yet all that run through Daniel's mind was _'if only he knew'_. 

The interview had been fun, joking around together like old times, picking up on the other drivers mistakes and laughing at things that the other had done in their lap. 

And Daniel couldn’t stop smiling at Max. 

“There is one thing we haven’t done together that I think is appropriate for TV, however, Max,” Daniel had murmured as the interview started to draw to an end. 

Max frowned as Daniel took Max’s microphone off him and handed it over to Anthony. Daniel took Max’s left hand in his, turned to face him and looked at him in the eyes. 

“Max Verstappen, darling, dear, love of my life and my soulmate, I could give you a massive speech but I don’t need to. All I need is this,” Max watched with wide eyes as Daniel dropped to his knee, pulling a ring from his jacket pocket, and Max brought his free hand up to cover the tears falling, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” he whispered, “Yes I will.”

Daniel stood up, sliding the ring over Max’s numbers to rest at the bottom of his finger as Max couldn’t stop laughing through his tears with a giant smile on his face. Their numbers were shining, the colours electric against their skin as their love was sealed again with the confirmation that their hearts would be joined by marriage one day. 

“You really fuckin’ did that,” Max sobbed, wrapping his arms around Dan’s neck and hugging him tight, pressing a kiss to his lips and feeling the love pouring through. 

“I really fuckin’ did that,” Dan confirmed, tears streaking down his face as he smiled at him. 

“I’m going to marry you, I’m actually going to marry you.”

“Stuck with me forever and ever baby,” Dan nodded. 

Neither of them noticed the cameras were still rolling, nor did they notice people cheering or taking photographs of them. In time, they’d come to appreciate it, but right now, they were too stuck in their own bubble of happiness and that was all they needed. 

And Max really couldn’t believe that regardless of everything he’d been told through his life, his soulmate loved him. And his soulmate was going to marry him. 

The universe really did work well for the people it adored.

**\---- Carlos and Lando ----**

“Hey Carlos? Can I ask you something?” Lando asked, curled around Carlos’ side and tracing his finger over his chest. 

“Of course, mi Vida,” Carlos sighed, already more half-asleep than awake. 

“What do you think of this soulmates shit? Kinda seems dumb, doesn’t it? The idea of being stuck with a person for the rest of your life just because the universe tells you to?”

“I think there’s something magical in it, knowing that the person you will fall for is perfect for you.”

“But then you’ve got that thing of not everyone finds them. It’s such bullshit that you can spend your life dating someone, like literal years, and then you get a number on your hand and what if it doesn’t match the person you loved? Why is your love worth less just because a random date that universe decided to plonk on your skin doesn't match up with anything significant in their minds?”

“No one says it’s worth less, Lando,” Carlos gently said, carding his fingers through Lando’s hair, “And just because your numbers don’t end up matching it doesn’t mean anything. You can still spend your life loving someone and not have your date be their date, and it’s fine. What’s brought this on, anyway?”

“What happens when you get your date? What if it doesn’t mean anything to me?” Lando’s voice was quiet, insecure, his hand shaking as he continued tracing his pattern. “I love being with you, and I don’t want things to go to shit just because the universe says so.”

“Things won’t go to shit because the universe says so, things will go to shit if we let them. But we won’t, Lando, we will be fine.”

“But what if-”

“Lando, we can sit and debate the what ifs all night, but honestly, I’m exhausted and I just want to sleep,” Carlos admitted, scratching Lando’s scalp to try and lull him to sleep. 

Carlos thought it did the job when Lando fell silent, snuggling closer into Carlos’ chest and falling quiet. Carlos’ eyes were heavy, pulled down with the weight of the season and the fight happening in the midfield. He wasn’t lying to Lando when he said he was exhausted; his body was protesting at the pure exhaustion he felt and the desire to sleep with Lando in his arms was increasing with every passing second.

“I hope my date is your first podium, I can’t wait to see that,” Lando whispered later on, clearly thinking Carlos was asleep. 

“Only if you’re up there with me,” Carlos whispered back, his lips curling into a smile where his face was buried in Lando’s dark curls. 

“I doubt they’ll let me,” Lando replied, except Carlos simply shook his head. 

“If Max can continue to drag Dan up into the cooldown room, I can drag you there with me too,” he promised and Lando simply huffed out a laugh. 

“But Max is normally the race winner,” Lando pointed out, giggling when Carlos wrenched an eye open to glare at Lando.

“If I wasn’t so tired and you weren’t as warm as you are I’d kick you out of bed right now,” Carlos warned him.

“I’m too hot? _Hot damn_!” Lando giggled, and Carlos simply groaned and smacked his hand over Lando’s mouth. 

God he really hated this lovable dork sometimes. 

~

Of course it had to be Brazil. 

And Lando had to be right. 

He was going to be _insufferable_. 

The anxious wait to find out if Lewis was going to get a penalty was filled with Lando curled on his lap to stop Carlos impatiently pacing around the motorhome, tapping a pattern onto Lando’s thigh as he tried to stop his racing heartbeat from sending him over the edge. 

“This could be it,” Lando whispered.

“Don’t jinx it,” Carlos warned, “I literally have no clue how to act right now.”

“Kiss me,” Lando said, and Carlos took the offered distraction. 

Lando’s fingers curled into Carlos’ hair, tugging on the thick dark strands as Carlos licked into his mouth. 

The team were aware of their relationship, they’d caught the two making out more than enough times, which is why when the phone went and the door opened, neither of them thought to break away. 

“It’s yours,” Zac’s voice cut through, and Lando nearly toppled off Carlos’ lap with how quickly he pulled away from him. 

“What?” Carlos asked, voice quiet as though if he spoke any louder it wouldn’t be true. 

“Hamilton got a 5 second penalty for the collision with Albon, the podium is yours, Carlos, you’re p3,” Zac confirmed, looking at his two wide eyed drivers clinging onto each other’s shirts desperately. 

“Fuck,” Lando hissed, and when Carlos looked at him and saw the tears in his eyes, he assumed it was because of the podium. 

“We’re have to have the whole team up there, including you, Lando, this is our podium,” Carlos said defiantly and Zac simply nodded. He wandered off to find the mechanics and PR staff to coordinate getting everyone up there, whilst Carlos turned to Lando and pulled him into a tight hug. 

“I did it,” he whispered.

“You got your podium,” Lando nodded, looking up at Carlos with teary eyes. 

“ _We_ got _our_ podium,” Carlos said instead. Lando shyly shook his head and pecked Carlos’ lips. 

“That’s all yours, love.”

Carlos traced his hands down Lando’s arms, tying their hands and bringing Lando’s hands up to kiss his knuckles.

“C’mon, I want you on that podium, spraying you with alcohol so badly when I lick it off you afterwards I get drunk on you,” Carlos tugged him along, their hands joined as they followed Charlotte out to the podium. 

The podium was all a bit of a blur, pictures and videos and shouting and Carlos bouncing around with his team. Lando held back, and Carlos kept pulling him forward, dragging the Brit back into the front alongside him. 

Lando seemed distracted however, his eyes glossed over. 

To anyone else it would just seem as though Lando was high on the feeling of the team’s first podium in 2014. But Carlos knew better. Carlos knew Lando better than anyone. 

And when he saw Lando’s eyes straying, he knew what had happened. 

Lando’s hissed ‘fuck’ wasn’t at the shock of the podium. 

Carlos shakily lifted his hand and saw a date that hadn’t been there only minutes before tattooed across his finger. 

_17/11/19_

Carlos caught Lando’s eyes, and as the two of them locked eyes, their hands lit a strong papaya orange. 

“I love you,” Carlos whispered, pulling Lando into him and wrapping his arms around Lando’s waist, the trophy digging into the small of his back as he kissed him. 

Their left hands linked in-between them, their numbers pressing alongside each other as they kissed. 

A matching date. 

_17/11/19_

Lando’s important date was Carlos’ podium. 

Carlos’ important date was realising he was in love with Lando. 

And for it to fall on the same day, it really showed that, regardless of what Lando thought about the universe having some sneaky shit in it with this soulmates thing, there was something more to it. There was truth in it all when Carlos was kissing Lando on the eve of his first podium, their team surrounding them and soaking them with so much champagne that they’d still be tasting it on their skin when the first race rolled around in 2020. 

And maybe, just maybe, ‘this soulmates shit’ wasn’t quite as dumb as Lando thought it to be. 

**\---- Alex and George ----**

Falling in love with your best friend was often the way soulmates ended up finding each other. 

Except, they were pretty sure that the universe didn’t want you to realise you’d fallen in love with your best mate the morning after a drunken tumble in bed with him. 

Alex woke up first to the feeling of being cocooned against another’s body, a hand resting in his hair and an arm curled around his chest. He sleepily opened his eyes, looking around the hotel room and blinking as he tried to orient himself. 

This wasn’t his hotel room. 

And that was George’s bag on the floor.

Carefully, Alex removed the arm from around his chest, shimmying himself out of the grip and pushed off the bed, careful not to jostle George who was _very much_ naked and, thankfully, still _very much_ asleep. He pulled a pair of shorts from the floor on and stumbled through to the bathroom. Sitting down on the edge of the tub, Alex ran some water in the sink, splashing it on his face as he tried to remember anything from the night before. 

It had been Silverstone, their last time racing here in F2 before they stepped up to the big boy leagues next year, and they’d been on the podium together, Alex remembered that. He remembered George hugging him close, whispering in his ear that one day they’d be stood on this podium with their F1 cars below them, doing this exact same thing. Their home crowd going mental and their arms around each other. 

He remembered stumbling through the club with George, holding onto his hand and thinking about how happy he was that he got to experience all of this with his best friend. That he got to hold his hand and smile and know what it was like for George Russell to pull his shirt off in front of you and run your hands across his body and-

Okay this took a turn that Alex wasn’t expect. 

He scrubbed his hands across his face and as he pulled his hands away, he saw the light blue numbers scribbled on his finger.

_07/07/18_

That was last night.

They hadn’t had those numbers yesterday on the podium, Alex knows they hadn’t. He’d sneaked a glance at his hand and saw it empty, his heartbreaking slightly when he realised that George didn’t feel for him what he was finding that he felt for George. 

And Alex didn’t know who else those numbers could be for.

“So, you love me, huh?” George said, and Alex looked up sharply at George stood in just his boxer shorts and leaning against the door frame of the bathroom.

When had he woken up?

“What?” Alex asked, trying to focus his eyes on George’s face and not his torso.

“Do you remember anything of last night?” George questioned, coming to sit beside Alex on the edge of the bath and pressing their knees together. 

“I remember us going to the club, and I remember thinking that I wish you loved me,” Alex admitted, but not much else.

George gently took Alex’s hand in his, and Alex tried his very best to stop his hand shaking. He screwed his eyes shut and tried to not look or focus on George’s hand on his. He didn’t want to focus on the boy that he couldn’t love. He didn’t want to get to know what it was like the feel George’s hands on him and his body (yeah, Alex was starting to remember just what it was they’d done the night before), and then have to move on with his life knowing that George didn’t love him. 

“Why do you assume that I don’t love you the way that you love me? What do I need to do to prove to you that I do?” George asked, and Alex looked up at him. 

Concern and worry was flooding George’s eyes, cupping Alex’s jaw with his left hand and holding his tight. 

“Alex, I love you. I told you I did.”

Alex shook his head, pulling his lip between his teeth as tears dropped. 

“No, no you didn’t,” he whispered, “I’d remember if you did.”

“Alex, look at your hand,” George said, and Alex tore his eyes away from George to look at his finger. 

A finger that was covered with the number and swirling with pale blue and warmth. 

A warmth that was there because George loved him. A warmth that was there because there was a pale blue swirl climbing up his hand and wrapping itself around his heart and treasuring it. 

Because George loved him.

“You really love me?” Alex whispered, taking George’s hand in his and looking at the number sprawled across his hand.

_07/07/18_

The exact same date as Alex. The exact same colour as Alex. 

George was his soulmate. 

“How could I not? You’re perfect, Alex, of course im in love with you.”

“But, but why did it take until you were drunk for my date to turn up? Why did-“

“Alex, the dates work in weird ways, you know that. Don’t read into it, all you need to think about is where you want to go to celebrate your win, now that we’re both sober, a little bit hungover, but I’m taking you out for lunch, my race winner,” George told him, and when Alex looked into George’s eyes, he saw the softness, the eternal adoration and the pure love that radiated from the beautiful core of his heart. 

Alex didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t good with words and he wasn’t good with understanding his emotions much. But with the way George was looking at him, he was getting the impression that he didn’t need to. 

George was right in that the dates worked weirdly, and despite numerous studies and countless hours of research, there’d still been no way of understanding how they work. But actually? Sometimes that was okay. There was so much that made sense in the world, and maybe this could just be a little bit of harmless information that ultimately didn't really matter. 

**\---- Charles and Max ----**

Unless you are in fact the two youngest protégées of your teams who are at each others throats 24/7 and wanted to understand why the world would be so cruel to dump you with them permanently. 

It just so happened that some people were also cursed with a mark that showed them that their best friend would not be the person they were in love with. 

Whilst their mark with their soulmate was always an indication of true love, the other mark showed that there was one person who understood your thoughts intrinsically beyond anything you could possibly imagine. 

And to have that mark come up because you’ve just punched your rival, really makes you want to scream. 

“What the fuck is that?!” Max shouted, looking at the side of his right ring finger with wide eyes at the date that had settled on his skin. 

“Fuck off I’m not having this.” Charles replied, doing the same on his own hand.

“There’s no fucking way-”

“It’s a mistake-”

“You’re not my fucking soulmate!” They both shouted at once, and running away from each other would’ve been effective if it wasn’t for Seb and Kimi grabbing hold of them and pushing them back together.

“It’s not a soulmate mark you dipshits,” Kimi sighed.

“It’s the mark of brotherhood,” Seb told them, “You two are destined to be the person that each other needs most.”

“No,” Max denied, “No, I’ve got Dan. I don’t need him, I only need Dan.”

Max winced as shooting pain shot up his hand, his finger spasming at the denial.

“It was meant to be Pierre,” Charles whispered, running his fingers over the mark, “Why is it not Pierre?”

“Because you and Pierre are different. You and Max, you have similar experiences,” Seb comforted, wrapping his arm around his young teammates shoulders and pulling him into a hug, “You’re going to spend your lives being pitted against each other until the end of your careers. You’re the future of this sport, and you need each other. You two are the only ones who will understand each other on a deep, intrinsic level in this sport. Have trust in yourselves and in each other, the universe wouldn’t be doing this if it didn’t have a plan.”

“He keeps flirting with Dan! Why should I trust him?” Max argued, and Seb watched as Kimi seriously tried to refrain from shaking the young driver in exasperation. 

“Because if anyone will be able to fight and also understand that you can separate the worlds it’s you two. Max, you can’t just have Dan in your life, you’ll freak out if you stay in a bubble. You need someone like Charles who will push you and challenge you. And Charles, as much as you try to deny it, you just want a friend, kid. Let each other be that,” Seb told them, and the two youngsters looked at each other. 

They sized one-another up for a moment, almost as though they were trying to garner just how much they could trust the other. 

“If you promise to not be a fucking brat all the time, we can deal with it,” Max eventually told him and Charles rolled his eyes. 

“It’s not my fault you can’t take some light rivalry from someone who is actually better than you,” Charles smirked and Max shoved him. 

“Maybe you should stop flirting with my soulmate and then I’ll start giving a shit about what you want,” Max quipped back. 

If they’d have looked, they’d have seen the prideful grins on Sebastian and Kimi’s faces. 

The two of them were looking at the boys bickering back and forth, the way that Charles kept trying to justify flirting with Dan and Max kept trying to justify why he should be allowed to punch Charles in the throat and there not be any consequences.

Neither of the boys saw the soft purple glow of ’30/06/19’ decorating their finger, their colours mixing together as it settled darkly against their skin. They didn’t notice the way that the universe softened around them and the sounds muted so that all they could hear was the bickering tone of the other’s voice. 

Dan found them later, in Max’s driver room with them both asleep on the sofa. Their racesuits were tied around their waists and Max had pulled the sleeves of his fireproofs up, Charles’ head dropped onto Max’s shoulder with their playstation controllers held loosely in their hands. The screen was still lit up with Call of Duty playing, the scoring screen flashing at them, with the muted tones painting their skins and tattooing a future across them. 

They didn’t understand it, but they didn’t need to.

All they had to understand was that they’d have each other’s backs, and they’d do anything to protect the other, even if they didn’t know it yet.

And maybe, just maybe, Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen were the duo everyone needed.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this
> 
> Kudos, Comments and Feedback always greatly appreciated❤️
> 
> Tumblr at 3303andmore if you want to yeet at me for some reason


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